This one's for you, Duo....
by Hiashi
Summary: Shounen-ai/slight yaoi; 4 x/+ 2; Quatre is 21 now, but the past seems to keep sneaking up on him... It's time to put his memories to rest.


Body

[ Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even the computer I type this from. I do, however, own the mind the thinks up these stories, the 50 cents in my pocket, a stick of gum, a pencil without an eraser, a wooden chair that wobbles when you sit in it, a mute, albino muse named Nathaniel, and a single Cadbury Cream Egg. Not too shabby, eh? 

Warnings: Shounen-ai implied; _Quatre + Duo_. Nothing bad, just fluff and sap, but if you're uncomfortable with boy/boy relationships for any reason, I'd skip this 'fic. Besides that, it should be fine for all to read.... ] 

Setting: Four years after Endless Waltz; Quatre's now 21 years old, and has settled down, but the memories don't seem willing to settle along with him.....   


Note: Quatre's memories will be within '****'s  
  


----   
  
**This one's for you, Duo...**

By [][1]Hiashi

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The audience was still, and silent as they locked eyes upon the stage of the concert hall, the faint spotlights that bore down upon its wooden surface strangely rustic looking, but adding to the air of old-fashioned beauty all the same. They were all clad in formal wear, from the latest of fancy fashions, to the oldest of antique garments.. It was safe to say that it was a formal affair indeed. Well, of course it was.. It was a fund raiser, after all. More specifically, the Winner Foundation's annual concert, that helped raise money for the good cause of helping to support and place the hundreds of war-orphans world, and colony wide. The aristocrats of the current time laxed much attention on the Foundation and its polite, well-mannered, and, not that many bothered to note it, handsome leader, young Quatre Raberba Winner, who had left his family's business to his many siblings so he could pursue his cause. 

The orchestra seated upon the stage began to quiet and hush with their tuning, the conductor stepping down from his pedestal to make way for a new face to step up, and take the microphone left behind. Decked out in a modest white suit, which went well with the paleness of his blue eyes, as well as the platinum blonde color of his hair, the boy, for he couldn't be called much more than that, went unnoticed until he was about half way to the podium, upon which the audience broke out into cheers and affectionate applause. The object of the noise just blushed, and stepped up before them, his hands gripping his violin tightly in one hand, the other reaching for the microphone. 

"Hello, all of you, my friends..." he began, slowly, and the audience was hushed. "My name is Quatre, as you may or may not know, and I play the violin. Most of you here may recognize me as the one who started this foundation, but if that's how you think of me, you're wrong.... This will be my last night as the representative of this organization, and will be handing it on to my sister, Ajita.." The muffled sounds to confused patrons; it was safe to say none present knew what the boy was talking about.. "I didn't start this. It isn't my project, my dream, or at least it wasn't.. It is now, yes, but in my mind, my heart, I know that it isn't mine.. I just hold onto my own echo of the original. I just keep it alive. 

"Some of you may know, or you might not know, that I was a Preventer before I came here, and many things before that.. I met him so long ago. It seems like forever, when I speak of him, but we met when I piloted a... mobile suit. But it wasn't until my Preventer days that I got to know him... Really got to know him..." The crowd listened in silence as he spoke, but Quatre couldn't even hear his own words; his mind was a whir of memories.... 

  
  
-   
  


  
  


_"Come on, Quatre, hurry up already! You don't have much time!_" The urgent hiss of Sally Po forced the blonde forward, crawling with all his might through the air shafts. There was tension in the air, stinging his lungs as he inhaled, making it hard to breath out, lacing poison with the sweat that trickled from his brow and over the bridge of his nose. He had to hurry, couldn't stop, had to hurry, hurry, always hurry.. 

It was only natural that he'd be picked, of the five best-prepared Preventers, to go undercover at one of Queen Relena's fancy parties, being of high birth himself, to watch out for a man who called himself "Fate", with the mind to assassinate the queen. It would be like the death of the first Heero Yuy, all over again. Confusion, outbreak, rebellion... They'd all follow, if "Fate" was allowed to have his way. And it was Quatre's job to make sure that he didn't. 

But things had turned sour, fast. "Fate" wasn't one man.. he was many, and was well-armed. Before Quatre could blink he had the function hall under siege, gun-wielding men at the exits, leaving the single Preventer nervous, and only able to crawl beneath a table and use his communicator to request backup. Now that very backup was about to arrive, and he had to get out. Of course, escape wasn't that easy.. "Fate", or at least one of its parts, saw him, and was on his trail, knowing he wasn't just a frightened partygoer. 

That's how he ended up in the air ducts, but as to how he was going to get away from "Fate" was another story.. Silently, he dropped into the kitchen storeroom, long since emptied, and had been half way across the room before he heard a gun click, and paused, glancing behind him. "Ah.. A preventer, I take it?" The man was shadowed by the lack of light in the room, but Quatre could still see his height, his brazen blue hair, the brown of his eyes.. And he saw as the man raised his gun and aimed for his head, tsking softly as he clicked it, and murmured, "What a pity.. Such a young one, too, losing their life at this point. Farewell, little blonde one.." Quatre squeezed his eyes shut, knowing he wouldn't be able to run in time to avoid the bullet, and he cringed as he heard a shot ring out, clear as a church bell on Sunday morning.......... 

..............And he stood their, still motionless, for a few moments after, before he dared open his eyes, to see the form of the man, "Fate", crumpled on the flood, a small puddle of blood staining his hair a deep, wrenching crimson... He'd been shot in the head. But how.. he spun around, then, and the sight he saw was one that brought a wide smile to his lips, something that he never thought he'd see again: 

Duo Maxwell. 

Yes, Duo, smiling to shame the sun, a gun pointed skyward and a hand on a hip, looking as cocky and self-assured as usual. "Q-boy.. Good to see you! Alive, that is. Where would you be without me?" Quatre just laughed, and jogged up to the braided boy, nodding a greeting. 

"Spare me your ego, braid-boy, and just get me out of here!" 

  


  
  
  


-   
  
  


He now had the audience's full attention, even if he still failed to really listen to his own words. "He was of humble beginnings, never born into privilege. He never had what you have now, or what you're giving away.. I knew he wasn't born into a rich family from the day I met him. He never had that air, he never acted like it. Oh, you have to admit you can tell someone with money from first meeting. They have ways of acting, certain reactions to different things.. Everything he did was pure. Really _pure_.. He may have been a murderer -- don't be shocked, I'm one too --, he may have been a thief, a rogue, a joker, gambler, but he was _pure_. His actions were from the heart, and I would have given anything if I could be a part of his heart, too... Even if I had to hand him my own on a silver platter.. 

"And I did..." 

  
  
-   
  


  
  


"Oi, pass the popcorn, Q, you're hogging it!" 

"I need the weight, unlike a certain braided baka." 

"Sheesh.. I miss the innocent you, Quatre. You're turning into another Heero. Braided baka.. hmph.." 

"Oh, hush, you're ruining the movie!" 

Both covered from neck to toe in blankets, popcorn scattered here and there, Duo and Quatre sat on the couch of one of the Preventers' many safehouses, eyes glued to the screen as they watched some old Japanese horror movie, starring a radioactive lizard that went on rampages through popular cities. Well, _semi-_glued.. Their eyes did wander a bit. Duo's to the popcorn bowl, Quatre's to Duo, Duo's to Quatre, both to the TV... Had they lived normal lived, they would have felt like silly teenagers.. and then would've remembered that they _were_ silly teenagers. But fate had dealt them a cruel hand, and they couldn't see the resemblance. It was just.. odd. Uncomfortable. 

"Q-boy, I'm famished.. Please? You like charities.. I'm a needy soul, who needs your help." Quatre sniffed, and ignored Duo, tossing a couple kernels into his mouth, before, suddenly, the other boy was edging toward him, and making a reach for the bowl. "Please.. Pwease?" The blonde couldn't help but laugh, as the braided boy batted his eyelashes, and widened his eyes, looking more and more like a begging dog. "I need your charity." As expected, Quatre broke down and laughed, burying his face in his blanket.... as Duo grabbed a handful of popcorn. 

They'd gotten awfully close, in those weeks at the 'house. After the "Fate" incident, the Arabic Preventer had been quite shaken, and he was allowed a few months leave, opting to bring Duo along with him, for "moral support". So when he glared at his thieving friend, who tossed popcorn into the air only to catch it, after letting his opponent see it, it was far from in malice; all playful. "You're nothing but an overgrown child, did you know that, Duo?" 

"What, you want your popcorn back?" With a devilish smirk, Duo popped a piece into his mouth. "Come and get it." The piece was now between his teeth, and he still managed to smile, a taunting gleam dancing in his eyes. Quatre just stared for a moment, hesitantly. After these months together, he shouldn't still be so reluctant, and yet.. His mind told him to stay put, to smile and laugh it off, act like it was a silly joke, but his heart told him different... And for once... He was going to.. listen.. to his heart... 

Neither boy really expected what happened next, and it happened so suddenly, neither could stop it, nor did they really _want _to. One moment Duo was smiling, haughtily, and the next Quatre was beside him, the warmth of the frail boy's form pressed up to him, foreign lips bruising against his own. He could feel himself go limp, even as a tongue snaked its way into his mouth, curling around the piece of popcorn and taking it back with it, and his mind could only think in scattered, incoherent ways, even as the feeling of another mouth on his own left. 

"Quatre... what..." Quatre's breath still brushed, feather-light over his skin when he regained his ability to think straight, and he blinked, slowly, looking over boy who loomed over him, watching the blonde chew the popcorn with a smirk. "What are you.. Why.." 

"You brought it upon yourself.." Duo barely had time to reply before his mouth was claimed again, the scent of herbs, of nature, of flora, of church and heaven and all things sacred, all assaulting his senses. It wasn't like he wanted to stop, but.. God.. 

"But why.." 

"Because I like you." 

And for the remainder of that night, that was good enough an answer for Duo. 

  


  
  
  


-   
  
  


"He was my friend, my confidant, and my.. lover. But while he knew so much about me, I only had assumptions about him. Often times I'd stay up late at night with him, sharing my memories of my friends, of how I got to be in the same place in life as he, and, though I couldn't see why, my family.. Always my family. He was so intent on learning about them, to the point when I almost couldn't stand it.. But then he told me about _his _life, and.. and I saw why. His family.. He had none, really. It became my life's work to comfort him, to hold him when he was sad, to become the family that I knew, but he wanted, so badly...." 

  
  
-   
  


  
  


"Tell me more about.. Ajita." 

"Duo, how many times do you want me to talk about her? She isn't that special.. There are twenty-eight others." 

"Then how about.. Er.. Kirdiga.. or.. what was it.." 

"Khadijah.. Oh, fine, if you really want me to.." 

Duo lay at the end of Quatre's bed at the safe house, relaxing on his stomach as his feet kicked at the air. A photo album was opened in front of him, and he soaked up the memories held within them greedily, tracing the faces and names scrawled onto the backs. Quatre flipped through the pages of his book as he read, glancing up every now and then to send Duo a fond look, before returning to his reading. 

"Her name means 'first wife of the prophet'.. in Arabic, of course. She's my.. eighteenth older sister, I believe, and the worst of all when it comes to chores. She'll work you all day, and then some! She used to cut my hair with a bowl, too. Be thankful no one ever tried to cut _your_ hair!" Quatre grinned, goofily, and kicked out to playfully nudge Duo's foot, only to find he'd stopped moving, his smile fading. "..Did I say something wrong?" 

"No.. It's just... that's funny." Duo smiled; it was obviously fake. Folding his book, Quatre frowned, and crawled over to lay beside Duo, resting his head against the sullen one's shoulder, and nuzzling up under his chin. 

"You're lieing.. almost. Of course you never lie, but.. What is it?" Duo gazed down at the boy who burrowed into him, cautiously, before sighing. And then.. He told Quatre. 

He spoke of never knowing his parents, while he lived on the colony.. Of being taken in by Solo, and of the boy being taken in by disease in the same way, to live in God's house. He spun a story of living as an orphan on the run, stealing from government storage houses with his band of fellow rogues, until a kind man, a Priest of the Maxwell Church, and his friend Sister Helen, took him in and the others in, clothed him.. Fed him, washed.. Raised him.. Found families for most of his comrades. And he told of the men destroying the church in a bloody, brutal massacre, of the death of his loved ones, and of losing the only family he ever had.. 

He told his entire life that night, in a fury of blind anger, melancholy, and uncontrolled rage. And Quatre held the boy to him as he spoke, as if, by letting him go, the trembling one would break at the seams, pressing Duo's head to his chest, muffling the sobs. They stayed like that for hours, feeling the comfort of each other, in a simple, chaste embrace, and when the one he held stopped his shivering, Quatre finally spoke, whispering in his ear.. 

"Now let me tell you of my father, Nadhir.. I never liked him, but he was a good man.. And then I'll tell you of my sister Irita.. and Nadia, Maysaa, and Firyal.." 

  


  
  
  


-   
  
  


Quatre went silent for a moment, taking a deep breath as his eyes scanned the scene. He could pick out familiar faces.. His fellow former-pilots, as well as Relena, Miss Noin.. His own little family.. "I wanted to be there for him, always, but I knew that his scars were so deep.. So very deep, that even my love couldn't heal them. Sure, I could cover them over, hide them from view, but what good would that do? Nothing, because they'd still be there, always there.. I wanted to help him, somehow, but I didn't know how I could.. It's funny, almost, how it wasn't until he died that I really realized just how I could do that, and honor his memory..." 

  
  
-   
  


  
  


"Duo, are you alright? I have sight of the plane.. Will you just respond, already?" Quatre could hear the panic in his own voice as he huddled in the corner of the hanger, of St. Barbara Military base, which had long-since been used for anything but a landmark, and as a constant reminder of the wars that were fought, with its fierce, barbed-wire perimeter, its looming self, and the parts of discarded mobile dolls that lay on display toward the side, never having been shipped to the salvage lot. The blonde had been sitting there for what seemed like forever, watching the goings-on of a few personages who had been seen out and about St. Barbara a few nights in a row. Speculation was that they were the remnants of the "Fate" party, who were gathering to stage another attempt at assassination, for Relena was scheduled to hold a conference about twenty miles away. In the hanger which he was situated in, was an unauthorized plane, and a big one, at that.. 

The whole thing reeked of trouble. 

"Duo... Duo! By Allah, _answer me!"_ Now he was almost screaming, and it took all of his willpower to keep his voice down, lest he alert the assumed enemy to his presence. "Goodness.. Duo.." 

"Don't worry, Q, I'm here for ya.. What's happening?" 

"They're at the plane.. Get the guys over here. I think they may be about ready to leave..!" This thought was justified as the twin fans of the plane began to swirl on each wing, the motors churning to a wrenching start. "Duo, I was right, hurry up.. I need the others here! And I need you here.." There was a pause on the other end of the line, before he heard Duo's voice, low and concerned. 

"I'm coming.. We're coming. Don't worry." Quatre sighed, to himself, and turned his gaze back to the plane, slowly beginning his crawl from behind a large crate, toward the exit that led into the main corridors of the base. The engine sounds deafened him, and, impatience setting in, he eventually just stood and ran for the door, darting into the corridor and not stopping there. Even with the sounds of the plane he could hear the footsteps of pursuers behind him, feet hitting tile in perfect, deadly symmetry, silence equal to curses, and deacceleration equal to death. It was stupid to leave, but.. Well, at least he was taking up the time of a couple "Fate"s, who could doing worse things at the moment. 

Like the other Preventers, he'd been tested for physical fitness, and had always done well enough to stay, but now he would question their analysis. He could feel his muscles grinding against eachother angrily, sending painful burning sensations across his pale skin, running up and down his legs, spawning upward to his midsection, and attacking his chest, his lungs, his heart.. The sweat that slid down his cheek was of little help to soothe the agony, and he thought that the pain he felt couldn't be matched... 

Then a shot rang out... He felt something graze his shoulder, maybe lodge itself into it, he couldn't even tell anymore. The crimson liquid flowed freely from the wound, staining a camo-print uniform an ugly brown, the color of the earth, earth he may be barreling toward for his own burial. Another bullet was fired, and it caught him in his right side, from the back.. it had the desired effect; he was catapulted forward, with his chin slamming the tile with a force enough to disillusion him. His chasers slowed, and he could hear one of them laugh. It was over.. All over, and.. Duo.. No.... 

"Quatre! Q, hold on!" The scream came from maybe a few meters away, down the hallway and in the shadows, since not a light was lit to show the faces of anyone, just their forms. He knew that voice.. 

"Duo.." he murmured, struggling to open his eyes, but blood had found them now, and all he could see was red.. Though, if he squinted, he could make out the boy's braid swinging as he ran toward him and the men behind him. "No.. stop.." Duo was coming to save him, but.. what if he didn't see the men? "Please..." But he wasn't loud enough. The gurgle in his throat didn't stop the American boy from dashing toward his wounded friend, and it did little to warn him of the gun that was being raised to meet level with him, of the finger that slowly wound around the trigger, that pulled it... 

All he could do was watch him fall. 

Fall to the ground, hit in the chest, a hand reaching out to him even then. 

And he couldn't do anything but watch as his friend's, his Duo's, life's blood was drawn from him, coloring the floor with the red of death. 

Together they lay, the dead and the dying, and Quatre was at peace, knowing that soon he'd be with his love, wherever death led them, even as he blacked out.... 

- 

Quatre woke the next day, groaning and pawing blindly at the virginal white sheets that clothed his entire, well-banged form, blonde locks splayed out every-which way upon his pillow. Since his first moment of true consciousness, he knew he was awake.. Not fully, no, but a dull vibration in the back of his mind as it woke from its trance told him that yes, he was alive, yes, he would be fine, and yes, it was not a dream. 

Blue eyes opened to view a blurred world of ivory.. It was as if snow had fell upon everything domestic, from the white metal lining of his hospital bed, to the as-white roses that sat in a vase beside him. Perhaps the only thing that seemed to differ was what he spied in the corner, all leaning into eachother as they slept, three separate forms, yet so close: Trowa, Heero, and Wufei. The names supplied themselves, and he let out another low moan at having to use his brain again, one that woke Heero, causing the Japanese Preventer to prod the other two into the land of the living. 

  
"Quatre..." Trowa said, with a lazy, post-sleep grin, as he and others raised to go and sit on the end of his bed. "You're awake. We were worried for your health, but the doctor said that if you woke up, you'd recover normally, so.." Most knew that the tall, Latino boy never spoke much without thinking over his words carefully, so the Arab in the bed was touched by his quick words. 

"Thank you... All of you. I feel wonderful, if a bit.. dizzy." 

Wufei snorted, "You were shot twice, you baka, no wonder you feel dizzy." After that was said, they all seemed to go quiet. The looks on their faces looked like they wanted to say something, but held it back.. Quatre decided not to envoke any bad memories, and instead smiled, brightly, in a way that melted the hard exteriors of his comrades, before asking a simple question... 

"Where's Duo's room? I want to see him.. It.. it feels like it's been so long..." 

The three glanced toward each other, sharing something that only they knew, and Quatre gave them a puzzled look, choking on his words. He knew what they were thinking.. They didn't need to tell him, but.. he couldn't believe them.. 

"Duo.. he's alright, isn't he? He was only shot once, I swear... he has to be.." 

Heero cleared his throat, trying to seem as aloof and nonchalant as ever; he still wasn't about to meet the blonde's eyes. "Duo will always be remembered. He..." A sharp sob cut him off, and Quatre buried himself in his pillow... 

Duo was gone... 

And he remained.   
  


  
  
  


-   
  
  
  


Quatre bowed his head for a moment, letting the memories go, so he could continue. "I knew what I needed to do... I needed to help others like him. He had no family.. I would try and make it so _everyone_ had someone, in all parts of their lives. And you all have helped me reached that goal. I thank you." He bent over in a bow, and the audience applauded fiercely, going silent as he glanced over them all. 

"But before I go... Before I go on to my own life.." Slowly, he raised his violin, tucking it gently beneath his chin. It fit perfectly, like it always did, when he'd play for Duo in their safehouse. A hand brushed the rusted cross that hung from his neck as he reached for his bow, and he let himself smile, if only slightly, as he whispered.. 

"...This song is for you, Duo Maxwell. Allah protect." 

   [1]: mailto:rhapsody@end-war.com



End file.
